


Counting the Days

by Linorien



Category: James Bond (Classic movies), James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Unrequited Love, hints of canon suicide attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 02:18:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11545392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linorien/pseuds/Linorien
Summary: A journal, when found, can reveal more about a woman than the reader expected. What follows are the entries from the journal of a Contessa Teresa di Vincenzo





	Counting the Days

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Q is actually a time traveler from the future.  
> Thanks to Opal and Ven for looking this over.

[](http://imgur.com/zKX5m7g)

### March 18th, 1966

I met someone new today, and for once it was not at one of Father’s social events. I actually left the house early this morning, furious at my father for something he’d said. I took my horse and rode farther than I ever had before, hoping to find somewhere that was peaceful. The wind felt harsh against my face, but it helped to clear my mind. And I was successful, just not in the way I had expected.

He was standing on the porch of a modest beachside home. It had once belonged to the Medino family, but they were found out for embezzling and the house has been empty for as long as I have been alive. He was dressed most peculiarly. He had on a suit, but the fabric was far too warm for Italy and the pattern was bizarre. A lot of ones and zeros.

Maybe it was that which made me slow down to talk. Maybe it was just an excuse to talk to someone new and so obviously not connected to the Union Corse. He came down from his porch to talk, and we talked for hours, about sailing, about literature, about art, about travel; there wasn’t much we didn’t talk about. I will be going back tomorrow.

### March 19th, 1966

He is a genius. We enjoyed lunch, and I had to hurry home for supper lest Father find out. He is a traveller, and this is his first time in Italy. He says he won’t always be able to stay for long, but he will teach me codes that he knows in exchange for me showing him around the city. I haven’t studied codes since my father made me memorise the family one, but he makes it sound exciting. I look forward to learning from him.

### March 23rd, 1966

This has been a wonderful week. I have learned more from this man, who insists I call him ‘Q’, than I would have in a week spent with my tutors. He has told me of many faraway places and technologies that seem impossible. He told me he has to travel again for a while. He said he would leave a message when he has returned. I can’t wait.

### April 30th, 1966

I need someone to talk to about my marriage. I tried Father; he does not understand. He was the one who made the match. I sent a letter to a friend, but even she told me that I should be lucky to have married a handsome Count. I find myself taking long rides again. At least that does not cost money. He can’t take that away from me. I hope Q returns soon.

### June 22nd, 1966

I was beginning to think he would never be back when I found a note left on my bedside table. Well, to call it a note might be a bit of a stretch. There was an origami circle and a pen clipped on to form a Q. I ate a quick breakfast and rode my horse nearly to exhaustion in my haste to reach his home. He laughed and invited me onto his porch for lemonade.

I told him of my marriage trouble. He did not have any advice, claimed it was far outside of his experience. He told me that perhaps in my future I would find someone special. Someone who was as wild as I was. I doubt Father would approve of any such marriage, especially since I am already taken. And how I hate that word. As if I am a piece of property, owned first by my Father and then bought through a church ceremony.

Q told me it would be better in the future. I wonder how he can be so sure. He gave me a fancy watch and told me to devise a code based around that watch. As I look at it now, I have a few ideas, but I have never been challenged like this before. I am thinking the shapes might be involved somehow. There are also more dials. I have to investigate what those do.

### July 1st, 1966

He has to leave again. But he told me my code is coming along. He said he was confident it would be finished when he returns. I do not know if that means he will be gone for a long time or if he thinks I am nearly done. I hope it is the latter.

### October 16th, 1966

At long last, he has returned. I have told my husband that I am going out to the countryside with friends for the week in order to spend more time with Q. As I write this, I am laying in one of the spare bedrooms in his home. I can hear the waves gently caressing the silver sands. If ever I was to retire, I would retire to here.

I am still slightly surprised that he agreed to this week and my plan. When I asked about his reputation, he said he hardly spends enough time here to care. And he says I am the only friend he has here. He wants to get to know me better.

If I didn’t know better, I would think he is courting me.

### October 24th, 1966

We ended up going to the countryside anyways. Q claimed he has never ridden a horse before so I told him I would teach him. He was awful! I have never seen such a coordinated person so unable to grasp the concept of riding. He kept trying to reach forward for something else that would control the horse and forgetting about using his knees. At least I was able to find a gentle horse in the village stables to borrow for the week.

He did teach me about camping, and together, we built some remarkable contraptions to filter the salt water and to fan ourselves when it became too humid to do much else. At night, we laid under the stars and I pointed out the constellations. In exchange, he told me stories from other countries about these same stars. He said it reminded him of how connected we all are. It reminded me of how chained I am.

### December 26th, 1966

He has been here for two weeks, but the holiday schedule has prevented me from seeing him. I finally was able to escape this morning while everyone else slept late from all the drinking last night. It was only a short visit, but I did want to give him the gift I made. Nothing special, but it was a painting of his house on the beach and a silhouette of him leaning on his porch railing. I could tell he liked it. Much more than my husband liked-- well, that does not need to be committed to paper.

From him, I received a gorgeous dress. Sequins and blue beads. He said he had been at a loss for what to get for me until he saw this in a small shop on his travels. He guessed at my size, but when I tried it on, it was perfect.

He said if I could visit tomorrow, he would still be there, but on the 28th, he would leave again for a long trip. Longer than he ever had before.

### December 28th, 1966

I only just caught him. His bags were already packed, and he said he was running late. I gave him a kiss on the cheek in farewell. I do not know if I took it too far or not. He smiled, but there was not one in return.

### April 4th, 1967

Q has not yet returned. I am pregnant.

### May 1st, 1967

Still no word.

### June 2nd, 1967

Still no word. My husband has a mistress.

### July 1st, 1967

I have moved back into my father’s house. He has assigned me a maid to take care of me during my pregnancy. I have heard no word from Q.

### August 28th, 1967

I have devised a new code. Less of a written code, more something to deliver messages in what you are wearing. Like having a swollen stomach and wearing your hair up in a bun means I do not want to see my husband. If clutching a knife, that means I will kill him on sight.

### September 13th, 1967

My baby girl was born today. It was the first time I’ve seen my husband in a month. He named her Aurelia after his grandmother. I must admit, it is a lovely name. I have given her the middle name Quorra for she will carry my heart. My heart which, if it must belong to a man, will only be owned by an Englishman.

### December 25th, 1967

Q has still not returned, although a pair of ice skates have appeared in my closet. They have my name engraved on the bottom. Tracy. I like it short like that. Everyone else writes it in full: Contessa Teresa di Vincenzo. I’ve never told him I like it short.

### February 5th, 1967

At long last, Q has returned! I left my daughter with my maid and rode for his house. It took longer since I have not been riding as often as I had before, but my horse knew the way.

We spent all day catching up on the past year. He was delighted to hear of my daughter, and of my new code, and now that I think of it, I did more sharing than he did.

He manages to do that all the time. I think, no, I know, he knows far more about me than I do about him. He told me he travels for business to France, to Germany, and to lots of local conferences in England. I don’t even know what he does for a job. Something smart. Of that I have no doubt. I wonder how much money he has. Maybe Father wouldn’t be mad if I ran away with him.

Maybe I can try to learn more about him. He said he is not planning on going anywhere for the next month.

### March 8th, 1967

He is leaving again, but I feel so much better after his visit. I gave him another farewell kiss on the cheek. He gave me one in return on the back of my hand. He told me to spend some time with Aurelia while he was gone.

### May 23rd, 1967

We took another weeklong trip again. This time, we visited Rome. Through his eyes, I have seen the city like never before. He knows the history as if he had lived through it. I could hardly keep up with his excitement as he pulled me through the streets into little alleys into family owned shops. Bakeries in particular he could not get enough of. The only time he sat still was in the morning when we drank tea together in the square.

### May 24th, 1967

I wish we could have visited longer. But this time, I am the one who needs to leave. I am told that I must attend a social event with my husband. I do not know why. He will spend the day on the arms of women who are not me. I will only be there to show off Aurelia. He treats her as a trophy. It could be worse. It could also be a lot better.

### June 1st, 1967

Something about this visit seemed final. I offered to take him to another historical city, but he said he would prefer to stay here on the beach. We drank together and watched the ocean. We went swimming one day. He helped me brush out my hair and plaited it when we were done.

The night before he left, I stayed past sunset and slept in the guest room. He kissed me goodnight.

Not on the lips, the forehead only, but he initiated it. Maybe there is some hope. I shall ask him next time if he might be interested. My father is not the only one in this family with connections.

### November 5th, 1967

My husband died today. A car accident with one of his mistresses. I am trying to mourn, it is expected of me, but I am a free woman again. Or as free as I can ever be. I don’t wish to scare him, but I would like to court Q. I hope he would have me.

### December 25th, 1967

I felt like a little girl again as I tried to stay awake for Santa, waiting to catch him in the act of delivering gifts. Only now, I was waiting for Q. He had left a gift before without me seeing. Only, I must have drank too much wine at the family party, or else I am simply out of practice.

I woke up in my bed when I was sure I had fallen asleep on the sofa. Across the chair next to me was another dress, this one white with lace flowers. I wonder if Q realised how much it looks like a wedding dress.

### February 20th, 1968

I have not heard from Q. He didn’t say if it would be a long trip or not.

### May 7th, 1968

Still nothing.

### July 10th, 1968

Still nothing.

### November 17th, 1968

Still nothing.

### December 28th, 1968

I think maybe he’s late. Delayed. I don’t want him to have forgotten me. I fear what else could be the cause of no gift this year. I built a miniature model of Rome. It takes up half of the floor in my bedroom.

### February 8th, 1969

Still nothing. I can see my father is worried.

### March 18th, 1969

It has been exactly three years since I met Q. I rode past his house today, just in case. It is kept up. But I see no sign that he is in residence. At least I know he is not close yet avoiding me.

March 23rd, 1969

Aurelia died yesterday. Spinal meningitis. The last piece of my heart is gone. Taken from me too soon.

### May 1st, 1969

There was a lovely sunset tonight, Q. I wish you could’ve seen it. The colours don’t seem as bright without you here.

### July 27th, 1969

I put on the white dress today. Just to try to cheer me up. It no longer fits as well as it did before. Too loose now.

### August 10th, 1969

Father is trying to make me attend social events. He says enough time has passed, and I need to find a husband to settle down with. I took a friend and left for a fortnight in Greece. I spent a lot of it sleeping on the beach. The sound of the waves reminded me of you.

### September 2nd, 1969

My friend urged me to try his house again. Or at the very least ride my horse again. I haven’t done more than stand in the stable and brush him these last few weeks. I was feeling reckless and tried one of the doors. After all, he has been inside my closet, why can’t I open his front door? I found a note for me on the kitchen counter. It is the the title deed to the house. He has gifted it to me. Dated last Christmas. One last gift, I suppose.

### September 6th, 1969

I tried to move into the house. I thought being closer to Q would help. The feel of his manic energy perhaps. I fear it only makes things worse. I am trying to stay strong. But some days walking to the window is the farthest I can go.

### September 12th, 1969

I found the strength to make it out to the porch today. One of the house staff brought me some lemonade. I think I cried. You made me lemonade often. This one didn’t taste nearly as sweet. I couldn’t finish it. There’s a lot of things I can’t finish.

### September 16th, 1969

I think I am done waiting. I waited for my husband to come to sense. I waited for my daughter to heal. I have waited for you to come back. I waited for a lot of things.

I’ve tried waiting for a future where I have more control over my life. Where I can be free. No one to tell me what to do. Too much of my life has been dictated for me. The least I can do is make one last decision on my own.

### September 17th, 1969

Dearest Q,

One day I hope you will find this. I would send it to you if I knew where to send it. My father may have a wide network, but even he cannot trace down a man known only by a single letter.

I have tried to wait for you, Q. You told me once that I would find someone who was as wild as I, someone who would love me as I am meant to be loved. I thought that person was you. I thought maybe you felt it, too.

But it seems I was wrong. We were both wrong. My heart is truly gone.

Is it morbid to wear the first gift you gave me today? On the day of my chosen death. Maybe it is. But I think of it as one last embrace from you. An embrace from you as I embrace the ocean. And if they bury me in it, then a part of you is with me forever.

I hope that someday, someway, somehow, we will meet again.

Farewell my heart.

Tracy.

* * *

Q closes the journal and wipes the tears from his face. He hadn’t known. He should’ve known. A notification on his computer reminds him that he needs to outfit 005 for a mission. To Rome.

But he can’t think of that right now. All he can think of is the painting hanging in his bedroom, lovingly painted for him.

He had only wanted to meet this woman Bond had married. The agent as he was now, did not seem the marrying type. Whoever convinced him to tie the knot had to be special indeed.

But travelling in time changes you. How does one accept that you are responsible for driving a woman to seek death? How do you accept that without the attempt, she never would have met your best friend and changed his life?

They say he has the power to change the world as MI6’s quartermaster. What they don’t know is that it is the least of his influence. _Rome_. But sometimes even that little bit of influence is too much.

He pushes back from his desk, grabs the journal, and retreats into his time machine. After all, with this, he has all the time in the world.


End file.
